13 April 2005
Meta-questions for
Discussion at the Passover Seder
By
Home page http://www.houseofdavid.ca/
The questions below are designed to get at the major issues lying behind the haggadah text and its relevance to the modern Jew. Due to time and other factors only one or two could be addressed at an average seder. You may wish to choose one as a “theme for this year”.
The Task “For many of us, the traditional set of
images that characterized Judaism from antiquity on has been irreparably
shattered. The new individualism, our historical awareness, and the critical
temper of our time have done their work. The belief system that our ancestors
carried with them-and that carried them through to modernity-doesn't work for us. Nor do we
have any powerful desire to recapture that mental set in its classical form.”
“…
we … know that we can never discard the fragments of the old, however
inadequate they may seem to us. To do so would be to lose our link with our
community-and without a community, where and who would we be? In fact, an
extended modern homily on both the biblical verse and its rabbinic
interpretation might teach that we must refashion our new tablets precisely
out of the fragments of the old.” From Sacred Fragments by
Neil Gillman |
Neusner on the Mythic Structure of Classical Judaism[1] In the beginning, two thousand years before the heaven and the earth,
seven things were created: the Torah, written with black fire on white fire
and lying in the lap of God; the Divine throne, erected in the heavens. . . ;
Paradise on the right side of God; Hell on the left side; the Celestial
Sanctuary directly in front of God, having a jewel on its altar graven with
the name of the Messiah, and a Voice that cries aloud, Return, Oh you children of men. Redemption is both in the past and in the future. That God not only
creates but also redeems is attested by the redemption from Egyptian
bondage. The congregation repeats the
exultant song of Moses and the people at the But redemption is not only past and future. When the needy are helped,
when the proud are humbled and the lowly are raised-in such commonplace, daily
events, redemption is already present. Just as creation is not only
in the beginning, but happens every day, morning and night, so redemption is
not only at the The great cosmic events of creation in the beginning, redemption at the
The myths of creation, of the Exodus from Egypt, of the revelation of
Torah at Sinai, are repeated not merely to tell the story of what once was
and is no more, but rather !o recreate out of the raw materials of everyday
life the "true being," life as it was, always is, and will be
forever. Streng says, "Myth and ritual recreate in profane time what is
eternally true in sacred reality. To
live in the myth is to live out the creative power that
is the basis of any existence whatever."
We here see an illustration of these statements. At prayer the Jew repeatedly refers to the
crucial elements of his mythic being, thus uncovering the sacred both in
nature and in history. We therefore cannot say that Judaic myth does not
emphasize a repetition of a cosmic pattern in cyclical, or mythical time, for
what happens in the proclamation of the Shema is just that: the particular
events of creation sunset, sunrise-evoke in response the celebration of the
power and the love of God, his justice and mercy, revelation and redemption…. The mythic structure, built upon the themes of creation, revelation,
and redemption, finds expression not only in synagogue liturgy, but
especially in concrete, everyday actions, or action-symbols, deeds that
embody and express the fundamental mythic life of the classical Judaic
tradition. These action-symbols are set forth in halakhah. This word is normally
translated as "law," for the halakhah is full of normative,
prescriptive rules about what one must do and refrain from doing in every
situation of life, at every moment of the day. But halakhah derives
from the root halakh, which means "go," and a better translation would be
"way." The halakhah is "the way": … way
man follows the revelation of the Torah and
attains redemption. For the Judaic tradition, this way is absolutely central.
Belief without the expression of belief in the workaday world is of limited
consequence. The purpose of revelation is to create a kingdom of priests and
a holy people. The foundation of that kingdom, or sovereigntv, is the rule of
God over the lives of man. For the Judaic tradition, God rules, much as men do,
by guiding men on the path of life, not by removing them from the land of
living. Creation lies behind, redemption in the future; Torah is for here and
now. To the classical Jew, Torah means revealed law, commandment, accepted by
The spirit of the Jewish way, halakhah, is conveyed in many modes, for
law is not divorced from values, …man's beliefs and ideals. The purpose of
the commandments was to show the road to sanctity. …The first consideration is ethical: Did the man
conduct himself faithfully? The second is study of Torah, not at random but
everyday, systematically, as a discipline of life. Third comes the raising of
a family, for celibacy and abstinence from sexual life were regarded as
sinful, but the full use of man's creative powers for the procreation of life
was a commandment. Nothing God made was evil. Wholesome conjugal life was a
blessing. But, fourth, merely living day-by-day according to an upright ethic
was not sufficient. It is true that man must live by a holy discipline, but
the discipline itself was only a means. The end was salvation. Hence the
pious man was asked to look forward to salvation, aiming his deeds, directing
his heart, toward a higher goal. Wisdom and insight-these complete the list.
for without them. the way of Torah was a life of mere routine, rather than a
constant search for deeper understanding. |
The Four
Questions really amount to one question-why do we celebrate Pesah? In
addressing this issue, the Haggadah conforms to the talmudic principle,
"Begin with degradation and end with glory" (Pesahim 116a)
The meaning of degradation is debated in the Talmud by Rav and Samuel.
Since Samuel equates degradation with slavery, he thinks we should start by
reciting
"We were slaves" (Avadim hayinu)
Since Rav equates degradation with idolatry, he advocates starting with
"In the beginning our ancestors served idols" (Mitehilah)
We read both passages at the
Seder because both passages are equally relevant. From slavery to idolatry is a
movement back in time from the Exodus to Abraham, who set our saga in motion,
for he set the scene for ultimate redemption when he rejected his father's gods
From Passover Haggadah: The Feast of Freedom, Rabbinical Assembly 1982
Yes, we do accept both definitions but we recite Samuel’s (degradation=physical slavery) first. Perhaps, because only truly exceptional
people can know spiritual liberation while physically unfree. For most, physical liberation, and an absence
of extreme poverty are required before they can turn their minds to spiritual
things.
According
to the Torah, God’s plan was to consign the people of Israel to 400 years of
slavery though they were guilty of no sin which might justify this
punishment.
"He said unto
Abram: Know for certain that
your offspring shall be strangers in a strange land, and shall be enslaved and
afflicted for four hundred years. But know with equal certainty that I will
judge the nation that enslaved them, and that afterwards they will leave with
great substance'" (Genesis
15: 13-14). From Passover Haggadah: The Feast of Freedom, Rabbinical Assembly 1982 |
Whole
generations were born and worked to death presumably without moral reason and
without hope of redemption. How does
this square with Abraham’s God?
17 Now the Lord had said, "Shall I hide from
Abraham what I am about to do…. 19 For I have singled him out, that
he may instruct his children and his posterity to keep the way of the Lord by
doing what is just and right …." 20 Then the Lord said,
"The outrage of
Genesis Chapter 18
The
key assumption of the Haggadah is that we are bound by gratitude to God for
rescuing us from
“From our vantage point today, we know that
Maimonides "Aristotelianized" the biblical image of God, that the
rabbis of the Talmud borrowed liberally from Plato and Hellenistic thought,
that Jewish mystics were influenced by an ancient, pagan tradition rooted in
oriental religions, that, in fact, the Bible itself reflects the rich and
complex culture of the ancient Near East within which it was composed. We are aware of the fact of history. We see change and development
everywhere. The God of the Genesis narratives is very different from the God of the later
prophets, of the medieval philosophers and mystics, and of Mordecai Kaplan….
In one sense, (the Torah) is the
Torah from Sinai; we copy it painstakingly onto a scroll and read meticulously
from it in the synagogue. But in another sense, it is also an eternally new
text, read anew by every generation as Jews seek to uncover another of its
infinite layers of meaning. Was Maimonides aware that he was radically
transforming the plain sense of the biblical text? The answer to that
question is not clear, at least to this writer. But we surely are aware-both of what Maimonides did, and
of what we do as well. Therein lies our peculiarly modern challenge. From Sacred Fragments by Neil Gillman |
We
think of the biblical God as omniscient, omnipotent and just. Do we have to let go of one of these
attributes?
Some modern theologians (e.g. Kershner[2]),
consider that god suffered with the victims of the Holocaust i.e. he is just
but not omnipotent. This is foreshadowed
in the Haggadah
And it is written, "I shall
be with
From Passover Haggadah: The Feast of Freedom, Rabbinical Assembly 1982
The
question of God’s omniscience is raised, indirectly in the Haggadah
We cried out to Adonai, the God
of our ancestors; and Adonai heard our plea and saw our affliction, our misery
and our oppression.
(Deuteronomy
26.)
Annex 1
From Sacred Fragments[3]
by Neil Gillman
“A myth should be understood as a structure
through which a community organizes and makes sense of its experience. The
world" out there" does not impinge itself on us in a totally
objective way, tidily packaged and organized into meaningful patterns. Our
experience of the world is a complex transaction between what comes to us from
"out there" and the way we structure or "read" it. Myths are the spectacles that enable us to see order in what would
otherwise be confusion. They
are created, initially, by "reading" communities, beginning with
their earliest attempts to shape, explain, or make some sense out of their
experience of nature and history. Gradually, as the mythic structure seems to
work, to be confirmed by ongoing experience, it is refined, shared, and
transmitted to later generations. It becomes embodied in official,
"canonical" texts and assumes authoritative power. In its final form,
it becomes omnipresent and quasi-invisible, so much has it become our
intuitive way of confronting the world.
“The more global the myth-the more it tries
to explain-the more inventive and imaginative it seems, and hence the more
fictional it appears to be. But though a myth has an inherently subjective
quality-for it can never be directly compared to the reality it represents, and
objectively confirmed to be true or false-it is far from a deliberate fiction.
We may never be able to stand outside of the myth to measure its correspondence
with reality, for we can never have a totally a-mythical perception of that
reality. The issue is never myth or no myth but which myth, for without a myth
our experience would be literally meaningless. But every myth is dictated by
experience, however much it shapes that experience in the very process of being
constructed.
“Myths are intrinsic to communities. In fact, myths create communities.
When they assume narrative form, they recount the community's "master
story," explaining how that community came into being, what distinguishes
it from other communities, how it understands its distinctive history and
destiny, what constitutes its unique value system. A myth provides a community
with its distinctive raison d'etre.
“Religious myths do all of this for a
religious community. They also convey the community's distinctive answers to
ultimate human questions: Why am I here? What is the meaning or purpose of my
existence? How do I handle guilt, suffering, sexuality, interpersonal
relations? What happens when I die?
“Myths promote loyalty to the community, motivate behaviour, generate a
sense of belonging and kinship.
Because they emerge from and speak to the most primitive layers of our
being, they are capable of moving or touching us in the most profound way. People die for their myths, so coercive
is their hold.
“Religious myths are
canonized in Scripture, in the sacred books that record the authoritative
version of the communal myth and become the text for communicating it to
succeeding generations. They
inspire liturgies, poetic recitations of portions of the myth, to celebrate
significant events in the life of the community and its members. They also
generate rituals, dramatic renderings of the myth, this time in the language of
the body. Frequently, liturgy and ritual merge to create elaborate religious
pageants which bring the myth into consciousness and give it a concrete reality
in the life experience of the community. The Passover seder and the Jewish rites of passage are superb
examples of such pageants.
“If myths are subjective, impressionistic
human constructs, in what sense are they "true"? Why should one be
preferred to another? There is no simple answer to these questions. Myths are
clearly not objectively true in the sense that they correspond to some reality
out there. We simply do not have an independent picture of that
reality against which we can measure the myth, for we literally can not see the
world except through the spectacles of our myth.
“But myths are also not capricious
inventions. They emerge originally out of our experience of
natural and historical patterns. They may select, identify, and organize these
specific patterns, but they can do all of this because the patterns are there
to be seen, selected, and organized in the first place. They can then be seen
to be roughly consistent with our experience of the world. To use our earlier language, we are able
to falsify some mythic claims. For example, many of us would not want to
account for the death of six million Jews in the Nazi Holocaust by invoking the
traditional mythic explanation of suffering as God's punishment for sin. That
explanation has been falsified for us; it does not cohere with our experience.
It does not provide an adequate explanation. We may not be able to produce a
better explanation, but we know this one can not be true.
“It is one thing to falsify a myth but
quite another to verify or confirm one. Though no single mythic claim may
capture reality in a totally accurate way for everyone, some claims may be more
or less accurate than others….
“Beyond this, myths can
be subject to a pragmatic test that determines whether they work, whether they
do what they are supposed to do: explain, motivate, generate loyalty, create
identity, and so forth. The
pragmatic test is frequently invoked by scientific myths. Freud's
psychoanalytic theory, for example, will be judged "true" to the
extent that it works to predict human behaviour and cure pathology. It will be
replaced if and when another equally mythic theory does all of this more
effectively….
“In the course of its earliest experience
as a people, the biblical community tried to do much more: understand the world
in its entirety and its own place in that world. The classic Torah myth, embodied
in Scripture and celebrated in liturgy and ritual, is the result of that
inquiry. The only way our ancestors could make sense of their experience of the
world was by invoking a supernatural, personal God who created the natural
order, entered into a uniquely intimate relationship with a man, his family,
and ultimately his progeny. He delivered this people from slavery, entered into
a covenant with them whereby they pledged to constitute themselves into a holy
people devoted exclusively to Him and His revealed will, punished them for
their disobedience, rewarded them for their loyalty, guided them through the
desert to their promised homeland, exiled them, and subsequently returned them
there again. It is nothing less than astonishing that this classic mythic
structure, elaborated and refined throughout the generations- notably by the
addition of a vision of the end of days as the ultimate fulfillment of this
community's hopes for itself and for mankind-remains in place to this day.
“Is this structure objectively true? There
is no way of establishing that. …
“But like the symbols out of which it is
fashioned, a myth can live and die, flourish or simply cease to function
effectively. But here the similarity ends. Precisely because a myth is a
complex of many symbols, it can usually survive the death of anyone or even of
a group of its symbols. Beyond this, a living community will strive valiantly
to preserve the vitality of its communal myth; nothing less than its own raison
d'etre as a community is
at stake.”
“For many of us, the traditional set of
images that characterized Judaism from antiquity on has been irreparably
shattered. The new individualism, our historical awareness, and the critical
temper of our time have done their work. The belief system that our ancestors
carried with them-and that carried them through to modernity-doesn't work for us. Nor do we
have any powerful desire to recapture that mental set in its classical form.”
“When a portion of its myth dies, the community will be impelled to replace
it through a process that we call "remythologizing" or, in Jewish
sources, midrash.”
“… A midrash is traditionally understood to be a talmudic homily
that expands on a biblical word, verse, or narrative in order to give it a new,
more comprehensive meaning…. “
“The assumption that underlies all of midrash
is that although the text
itself may be closed, it still remains open to infinite layers of
reinterpretation…. “
“In this situation, we too have to carve out
our own new set of tablets (i.e. myth). But we also know that we can never
discard the fragments of the old, however inadequate they may seem to us. To do
so would be to lose our link with our community-and without a community, where
and who would we be? In fact, an extended modern homily on both the biblical
verse and its rabbinic interpretation might teach that we must refashion our
new tablets precisely out of the fragments of the old.
“Every midrash, then, is a temporary consolidation, a plateau, the outcome of a struggle
to rethink a tradition that has become, at least to some Jews, irrelevant. It
is then inherently transitory, itself easily becoming anachronistic, lingering
until we are shocked out of our complacency when our children tell us that we
no longer" speak" to them.
“…. Midrash can also be understood as a process or
activity, rather than an outcome.
It denotes the process of encountering a text, challenging it with an ever-new
set of questions, and struggling to extract from it equally new answers. If we
emphasize the process over the outcome, it is because of our peculiarly modem
concern with the tentative, individualistic, and even fragmentary nature of the
entire enterprise. We can never boast that our readings of Judaism are secure and
permanent. We are all, more or less, always "on the road"; our work
is always m process….
“It is one of the
glories of the Jewish philosophical tradition that there
never was one ultimate authority-a
pope, chief rabbi, or panel of philosophers-who had the power to declare one
statement of Jewish belief authentic or another heretical. The concerned
community decides-by its very willingness to study and teach, appropriate and
transmit, that statement to its children and students. The very readiness to do
all of this is itself testimony to its truth. It is this, concerned community
that lends coherence and integrity to the process of midrash,
however individualistic it
may be.”
Annex 2
The Mashchit (more precisely mašḥīt) - DESTROYER
This mysterious figure appears out of nowhere in the
biblical text. I have found the
following useful It is quoted from S. A.
Meier’s article in Karel van der Toorn’s Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible, 1999
'Destroyer' is the designation of a supernatural envoy from God assigned
the task of annihilating large numbers of people, typically by means of a
plague. The noun is a hiphil participle of the root šḥt which is
not attested in the OT in the qal. When the root appears in the hiphil, hophal, piel, and niphal stems, it describes the deterioration, marring, disfiguring, damaging and
destruction of people and things, such as textiles (Jer 13:7), pots (Jer 18:4),
vineyards (Jer 12:10), trees (Deut 20:19), cities (Gen 13:10) and buildings
(Lam 2:6). It represents the kind of activity performed by plundering thieves
(Jer 49:9)….
“The Destroyer must be distinguished from those supernatural figures who,
in their capacity as angels/messengers of death, visit all men and terminate
the lives of single individuals. In the Bible, the Destroyer does not kill all
humans, nor is he dispatched by God to kill isolated individuals. Furthermore,
unlike the angels of death who bring death of any sort (both natural and
premature), the Destroyer brings specifically a premature and agonizing death….
The Hebrew word mašḥīt,
explicitly describing a
supernatural creature commissioned by God to exterminate large groups of people, appears in only two contexts in the Bible (Exod 12:23; 2 Sam 24:16
parallel to 1 Chr 21:15). The activity of such a creature can be further
detected in at least four other passages, even though it is not there
explicitly identified as a mašḥīt (Num 17:11-15 [16:46-50]; 2 Kgs 19:35 parallel to Isa 37:36; Ezek 9 …).
The death of the firstborn in Egypt, in concert with all of the other
plagues, is primarily attributed to the activity of YHWH throughout the Bible:
"I will kill … your first-born" (Exod 4:23; cf. 11:4-5;
12:12-13.23a.27.29; Ps 78:51; 105:36). Nevertheless, YHWH's involvement is
further qualified in one passage: " YHWH will pass through to strike down
the Egyptians; when he sees the blood on the lintel and on the two doorposts,
YHWH will pass over the door and will not allow the destroyer (mašḥīt) to enter your houses to strike you down" (Exod 12:23).
The relationship between YHWH and the Destroyer in this passage is hardly
extraordinary in the context of the ancient Near East. One is to picture YHWH,
accompanied by a retinue of assistants, going against his enemies in judgment….
Both YHWH and his entourage can be depicted as active in the same conflict, and
if YHWH decides to restrain his weapons, he must also give orders to desist to
the supernatural warriors that accompany him. In Exodus 12, therefore, YHWH and
at least one supernatural assistant are responsible for the deaths of the
Egyptian first-born (cf. Ps 78:49); when YHWH sees Iamb's blood on door-posts,
not only does he not kill, but he gives orders to the accompanying Destroyer to
exercise similar restraint (biblical and later sources affirm that a number of
plague and destroying angels do God's work; cf. Ps 78:49…).
The means by which the Destroyer slew the Egyptian first-born is not
immediately obvious, although the Hebrew term and its translation in the early
versions point to a violent or painful death….
This is confirmed by the statement that the Destroyer must be restrained
from "smiting", lingoph (Exod 12:23), a verb whose root is identical
to the root for the word 'plague' or 'pestilence' …. The word translated
'plague', negeph, is used in connection with the death of the first-born (Exod 12:13), as maggepha describes the other 'plagues' (Exod 9: 14). There can be little question,
therefore, that the Destroyer in Exod 12:23 belongs to the class of plague
deities broadly attested in the ancient Near East.
[1] From The Way of Torah: An Introduction to Judaism, Second Edition
by Jacob Neusner, Dickenson 1974
[2] From When Bad Things Happen to Good People by HAROLD S. KUSHNER, Schocken, 1981 pp. 37, 38,
45, 84, 85
To try to understand the (biblical) book (of Job) and its answer, let us
take note of three statements which everyone in the book, and most of the
readers, would like to be able to believe:
A. God is all-powerful and causes everything that happens in the world.
Nothing happens without His willing it.
B. God is just and fair, and stands for people getting what they deserve,
so that the good prosper and the wicked are punished.
C. Job is a good person.
(Job 38, 39)
As long as Job is healthy and wealthy, we can believe all three of those statements
at the same time with no difficulty. When Job suffers, when he loses his
possessions, his family and his health, we have a problem. We can no longer
make sense of all three propositions together. We can now affirm any two only
by denying the third.
If God is both just and powerful, then Job must be a sinner who deserves
what is happening to him. If Job is good but God causes his suffering anyway,
then God is not just. If Job deserved better and God did not send his
suffering, then God is not all-powerful. We can see the argument of the Book of
Job as an argument over which of the three statements we are prepared to
sacrifice, so that we can keep on believing in the other two….
If we have grown up, as Job and his friends did, believing in an all-wise,
all-powerful, all-knowing God, it will be hard for us, as it was hard for them,
to change our way of thinking about Him (as it was hard for us, when we were
children, to realize that our parents were not all-powerful, that a broken toy
had to be thrown out because they could not fix it, not because they did not want to).
But if we can bring ourselves to acknowledge that there are some things God
does not control, many good things become possible.
We will be able to turn to God for things He can do to help us, instead
of holding on to unrealistic expectations of Him which will never come about.
The Bible, after all, repeatedly speaks of God as the special protector of the
poor, the widow, and the orphan, without raising the question of how it happened
that they became poor, widowed, or orphaned in the first place.
We can maintain our own self-respect and sense of goodness without having
to feel that God has judged us and condemned us. We can be angry at what has happened to us
without feeling that we are angry at God.
MNore than that, we can recognize our anger at life’s unfairness, our
instinctive compassion at seeing people suffer, as coming from God who teaches
us to be angry at injustice and to feel compassion for the afflicted. Instead
of feeling that we are opposed to God, we can feel that our indignation is
God's anger at unfairness working through us, that when we cry out, we are
still on God's side, and He is still on ours….
The Holocaust happened because Hitler was a demented evil genius who chose
to do harm on a massive scale. But he did not cause it alone. Hitler was only
one man, and even his ability to do evil was limited. The Holocaust happened
because thousands of others could be persuaded to join him in his madness, and
millions of others permitted themselves to be frightened or shamed into
cooperating. It happened because angry, frustrated people were willing to vent
their anger and frustration on innocent victims as soon as someone encouraged
them to do so. It happened because Hitler was able to persuade lawyers to
forget their commitment to justice and doctors to violate their oaths. And it
happened because democratic governments were unwilling to summon their people
to stand up to Hitler as long as their own interests were not yet at stake.
Where was God while all this was going on? Why did He not intervene to
stop it? Why didn't He strike Hitler dead in 1939 and spare millions of lives
and untold suffering, or why didn't He send an earthquake to demolish the gas
chambers? Where was God? I have to believe, with Dorothee Soelle, that He was
with the victims, and not with the murderers, but that He does not control
man's choosing between good and evil. I have to believe that the tears and
prayers of the victims aroused God's compassion, but having given Man freedom
to choose, including the freedom to choose to hurt his neighbor, there was
nothing God could do to prevent it.
Christianity introduced the world to the idea of a God who suffers,
alongside the image of a God who creates and commands. Postbiblical Judaism
also occasionally spoke of a God who suffers, a God who is made homeless and
goes into exile along with His exiled people, a God who weeps when He sees what
some of His children are doing to others of His children. I don't know what it
means for God to suffer. I don't believe that God is a person like me, with
real eyes and real tear ducts to cry, and real nerve endings to feel pain. But
I would like to think that the anguish I feel when I read of the sufferings of
innocent people reflects God's anguish and God's compassion, even if His way of
feeling pain is different from ours. I would like to think that He is the
source of my being able to feel sympathy and outrage, and that He and I are on
the same side when we stand with the victim against those who would hurt him.
[3] Pp. xxv-xxvii, 26-30, 88